


Reservations For Two

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [14]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9323120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Fitting together always took some doing, but in the end, Smokescreen had Ratchet right where he wanted him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaslight Dreamer (wyntirrose)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/gifts).



> Holiday gift to the prompt of: Ratchet/Smokescreen fireside snuggles.

Around the outer hull of their ruined ship, St. Hilary’s volcanism had created many fractures and pockets. The topside shuttle bay, ruptured by two wrecks and who knew how many eruptions, let out directly onto the ‘roof’ now, with stairs recently built from the reclaimed hull sections of the bay itself. 

As time and materials allowed, they had continued the volcano’s work: to modify the ruins of the _Ark_ and the rock structure that buried it. Tunneling through the rock wasn’t hard, except for the weakness of it. They had to stop frequently to add supports to maintain passages in their size. Often the spaces simply weren’t big enough for mechs larger than Blaster’s symbiotes however, let alone the mini frames, but their crash site was becoming more of a home.

But when their work made little places like this, Smokescreen thought, it was all worth it.

Wheeljack had been very, very excited about the silica content of this world; the caves up here were lit with optical fiber he had extruded for days on end. The installed bundles either snaked up from inside the ship or out to the surface to funnel in daylight. Sentimentalist that he was, Wheeljack had set about creating stellar patterns with the fibers’ terminal points. Then he had conned Sunstreaker into helping him by painting the rock with phosphorescent scenes. In this magnificently romantic ambiance, the caves all branched off into various shallow ends. Little nooks everywhere offered a varying levels of privacy. Two or five, depending on one’s size actually let out into open air, and these had been fitted with reclaimed stretches of the _Ark_ ’s view glass. If heavy, it was strong, but its most important property was the one-way visibility. Set correctly, the re-made windows allowed light from outside to pass inside without letting light from inside out.

Smokescreen watched the sleet and lightning outside the porthole and thought even space-rated view glass couldn’t maintain heat while set into the bare rock, advancement mortar or no. Snorting to himself, he turned to the tiny stove that had been installed, again as resources allowed, in the deeper, more private rooms once the whole concept of _seasons_ had been explained. As converted human technology, the heaters had a humorously unbelievable display of a crackling fire. Since they put out a great deal of heat cheaply, in terms of their limited resources and the units’ size, no one thought to complain. And Wheeljack had loved tinkering new, mech-height controls onto the things.

Footsteps paused outside the alcove before Ratchet himself stepped inside. Smokescreen grinned, glancing up over his shoulder. “You’re late.”

“Sideswipe decided to antagonize Bumblebee.”

“And Jazz busted his head?”

“You think Jazz is going to frag off both of them? No, his officer and his _gentleman_ were left to work it out between them. Which meant me working them over when the pieces were delivered to me.” Ratchet snorted and walked over to the porthole, stepping around the pillows, pallet, and plate of treats Smokescreen had laid out with a view to the weather and the silly animated fire. “What’s all this?”

“We’re going to curl up by the fire and watch the storm,” Smokescreen informed him.

“Oh, is that so?” Ratchet looked out the window, shivering as a bolt flashed from the ground to the sky. “And why should I do that, hmm?”

“Because I managed to barter for your favorites, and I demand the right to hand feed them to you.” Smokescreen finished setting up the heater and turned to Ratchet. “And I want to hold you. Come here, you --”

Ratchet allowed himself to be pulled tight to Smokescreen, grunting with mock annoyance. But he pulled Smokescreen down to the pallet first and propped himself up on the pillows. Smokescreen draped his arm over Ratchet’s waist, angling his bumper beneath that wonderful, broad windshield so the rest of him would fit around Ratchet’s lower half. It took a little bit more doing to get his right wing at an angle that wouldn’t cramp, but snuggles were never a wasted effort. Running a finger down a wiper blade, Smokescreen grinned and finally spoke again. “I knew you’d see the benefits.”

“You had a good argument ready. So, my favorites, hmm?” Ratchet smirked at him, running his hand up Smokescreen’s back to rest just beneath his wing joints.

“I did. Now, open up.” Smokescreen reached over him to pick up one of the treats and held it up for Ratchet to take a small, savoring bite. These alcoves didn’t have doors, so Ratchet wouldn’t allow more than petting, and Smokescreen certainly didn’t want to share. Still, the light touch and warm presence of Ratchet was enough to set Smokescreen to rumbling in contentment. He watched the cheery ‘firelight’ flicker over his partner and the walls and felt the tension ease out of them both. The icy rain still beat the view glass, and he could still hear the distant rumble of thunder.

For this moment, life was beautiful again.


End file.
